


random drabble dump

by bbvqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Death, Mindfuck, Multi, Other, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5811670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbvqueen/pseuds/bbvqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes i rp. and sometimes i write horrible drabbles as meme replies for people. and other stuff</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "what if bb beat snake in zanzibarland and tortured him to death" basically

Snake would have almost gotten him were Big Boss’s reflexes any worse for his age, but as it stood, he merely managed to singe the hem of his coat with that makeshift flamethrower of his. He was getting desperate, Big Boss could tell, because Snake knew better than to engage his former commander in close quarters, trying to beat him with techniques he himself had developed and mastered.

So he’d kept his distance – until now, and that was his worst mistake because it left him wide open for a counter attack. Snake was down and stunned within seconds when Big Boss charged at him with the speed and perceived brunt of a freight train, the impact hard enough to force the air out of his lungs.

A rather anticlimactic conclusion to their battle, he found, and aimed his submachine gun at the body to his feet with a disparaging scoff, finger crooked around the trigger.

Seconds passed, and then he lowered the weapon again. The door slid open at the same time, a squad of Zanzibar Land soldiers entering and securing the area.

“Not yet,” he said, to no one in particular.

“Sir! Are you alright?!”

“String him up,” Big Boss said with a stony expression, and brushed past the saluting guard. “You, give me a sitrep – I want the exact number of casualties, and any inventory damage or loss. The rest of you return to your posts. Watch out for enemy aircrafts. Your order is to shoot on sight should anything pop up on your radar.”

“Yes, sir.”

*

About two hours later, Big Boss strode into one of the interrogation rooms with large, sweeping steps, while two guards kept watch outside to make sure that nobody would disturb their commander. In the center of the room the intruder – stripped down to his pants – was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists, only half conscious; the concrete ground below him covered in a large, dark brown stain.

Big Boss stopped walking at the same time he rammed his gloved fist into Snake’s stomach, producing an ugly, crunching noise, which meant that he probably got a rib or two. Snake groaned in the back of his throat, the duct tape covering his mouth preventing him from voicing any protests.

But he was awake now.

“No need to worry,” said Big Boss, offering mock comfort and withdrawing his hand. “It’s not an interrogation. You don’t know anything. All you need to do is listen to what I have to say, now that we have the time. By the end of it, I will ask you only one question, to be answered with yes – or no. Easy, right?”

Snake glanced up at his mentor’s face with glazed eyes, then hung his head, knowing full well that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He’d fucked up, and any attempt at escape would be futile as long as Big Boss was around, anyway.

(Not like that nosy journalist would be able to help him, now. He’d had her thrown back into the sewers, where the current was strongest, pulling under even the most experienced swimmer.)

Taking a step back and creating some distance, Big Boss began to pace in front of his former protégé, hands clasped behind his back.

“The thing is, Snake, I’d rather not kill you if I don’t have to. At the same time, though, I cannot simply let you leave, given everything you’ve learned during this operation. The public knows that Big Boss died in Outer Heaven, and yet he’s alive here, in Zanzibar Land… two conflicting truths… it puts me in a very difficult position. So what am I going to do with you?”

He sighed, and nonchalantly drew his combat knife, only to promptly drive it between Snake’s ribs, burying it to the hilt inside the convulsing, quivering body, ignoring the muffled scream.

“Do you know what’ll happen if you remain a captive of Zanzibar Land? You killed dozens of my men – including Fox, my most trusted lieutenant. Their comrades will be out for blood. And they’ll get their revenge by any means, whether I try to put a stop to it or not.”

Big Boss began to twist the knife in Snake’s gut.

“They will torture you relentlessly. I know what you’re thinking right now – ‘I underwent torture resistance training.’ What we did at FOXHOUND is child’s play compared to what my men here are capable of, boy. After a few hours of their treatment, you’ll wish they’d let you die, but it’ll just be the beginning. Is that the kind of life you consider worth living, Snake? The kind of life you _love?_ ”

He spat the last word at him, dripping with venom.

“It doesn’t have to be that way, though,” he said, after a pause, repeating Snake’s own words back at him. His grip on the blade was firm, but he was no longer moving it, granting Snake an opportunity to catch his breath.

“I can absolve you of your crimes against your kind. I’ll forgive you for what you did. Forget about how you murdered Frank, and almost set your own father on fire. I know how you felt about FOXHOUND. More than anything else in the world, you want that time back – the family you once had, and the commander-in-chief that held it all together. We can make it happen, you see. And this time, it’ll last. You just need to stop deluding yourself… chasing phantoms of a life that was never yours to live, and instead embrace who you are now – the good and the bad. The man that I made you into.”

Snake didn’t move, nor did he try to reply. Big Boss figured that he needed a couple more moments to process everything that was just said to him, but that was fine. It was difficult to think when you were in that much pain, and the combat high had worn off.

“Well?” The older man said, voice a little softer, carefully pulling the knife out, just an inch for now. “Doesn’t that sound good to you? Answer me now.”

Snake exhaled heavily through his nose, and weakly shook his head, still staring at the ground between their feet.

Big Boss stopped. Then his hand darted up from the knife’s hilt to Snake’s throat, wrapping around it in a steel grip. He pushed his head up, forcing him to face him.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” he growled, dangerously low, and dangerously close. Snake followed his ‘request’, and narrowed his eyes at him in pure, unadulterated hatred.

Then he shook his head again, as much as Big Boss’s grip allowed.

“No?” Big Boss verbalized his answer, and Snake’s gaze did not waver.

“You mean to tell me that you would rather die a slow, painful death, than share this life with me? Did I understand this right?”

A nod.

A moment of incredulous silence passed. Big Boss snorted. He’d had high hopes for Snake, once, but now he realized that he’d been a lost cause from the start. Pity.

“You’re lucky,” he drawled, “That I’m not that heartless. I promised you a favor, didn’t I?”

His other hand joined the one already on Snake’s throat, and together they pulled the noose taut around his neck, cutting off his air supply and crushing his windpipe.

It took several minutes. He was stubborn, and his body reacted naturally – struggling, trying to survive. Big Boss maintained eye contact all the while, watching the life being drained from his face, and finally, all of his limbs.

He let go, then, hand dropping to the knife still sticking out of his body, and he pulled it out, blood gushing out of the wound. Somehow, he managed to laugh. It was all so fucking funny – Frank was dead, Snake was dead, everyone else was gone and would soon be dead, too.

But he had Zanzibar Land. And Zanzibar Land would not die as long as he was alive.

“Surrounded by cowards,” he mused, and wiped the blade clean on Snake’s pants. Then he left, without looking back once.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "what if ocelot were unable to recognize the real bb down the years"

He’d said that they would meet again, and that they did, even when it had seemed like a comforting lie or a convenient half-truth at the time. They’d always known that death could come to either of them, at any time, and Ocelot had done everything in his power to make sure that his mentor’s odds of survival were much greater than his own. Painting a bullseye on the phantom’s back was tantamount to pulling the trigger on himself, as well. Doubly so for as long as he willingly believed the lie he was living.

“Two plus two equals…?”

“Five,” Ocelot spat, giving him the same answer he had given him the last three, four, five sessions; each of them featuring their own flavor of truth serum. “What is this, Elementary Math 101? Did I not pass yet?”

“Not quite,” Big Boss said dismissively, gaze trained on the gun in his lap. He was sitting opposite the other man, and by this point it felt like they had spent weeks if not months here in the lowest basement level of FOXHOUNDs headquarters. But it was the kind of situation you trained for all your life when you were a spy, so neither of them would reach their breaking point anytime soon.

They could be doing this forever, but it wouldn’t change the indisputable fact that some men lied so much that it became their truth, in order to affirm their own beliefs – and identity.

“Let’s switch things up a little,” Ocelot suggested, hands bound and all, speech slurred mildly. “How about I start asking the questions?” He went right ahead without giving Big Boss a chance to reply.

“Which one of Zero’s pet projects are you? I am fairly sure David shouldn’t look older than twenty at this point. I heard there was a third one, though. Genetically modified to age even faster than the twins – have him run for office. It’s like people believe politicians become more trustworthy with age.”

He gave a bitter, throaty chuckle.

“George, isn’t it? Is commanding FOXHOUND part of the campaign to boost your reputation in the public eye?”

“Hm,” was Big Boss’s response, a noncommittal grunt. He supposed there wasn’t much he could do for him at this point, and he still owed him for all the times he spared him back in Tselinoyarsk.

“Why not? Makes as much sense as our equation. Nothing means anything anymore, does it?”

“I’ve done what I was meant to do,” Ocelot said, with finality. “It’s complete.”

Outer Heaven.

“Is that what you believe?” He removed the safety from his handgun with a cold metallic click, though Ocelot did not do so much as flinch. It seemed like he had already made peace with his fate some time ago. Big Boss lifted his hand and aimed the barrel at his forehead, right between resolute eyes.

“Your mother would be very proud of you, you know. Thank you for all your hard work,” he said, in flawless Russian.

Ocelot’s eyes widened, lips mouthing some name _(John)_ , but whatever he meant to say was drowned out by the sound of the gun discharging, reverberating impossibly loud in the small room. He went limp immediately, gray hair stained with red.

Big Boss holstered his gun, after a moment.

“Would she be proud of me, too? Probably not. I made you wait a long time. Kaz, too. Him. All of you.”

_Didn’t want the pain, so I made you live with it instead._

With a sigh, he stood, and patted Ocelot’s lifeless body down for a case of cigars he knew he always kept with him, and the zippo; one thing he had never forgotten. He turned around and left, having no more words to spare, the heavy door falling shut behind with a foreboding bang.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an outer heaven boss battle thing that didnt go anywhere cause i suck at writing venom

It was time.

He gazed at this mirror reflection one last time, his creator’s last instructions still echoing in his mind – they weren’t entirely clear, but the truth was hidden between the syllables and static and he could filter it out easily enough. His mission was nearing its inevitable end; he wouldn’t make it out of Outer Heaven alive, and neither would most of his men – they’d all be buried here beneath the flames and Big Boss’s dream collapsing in on itself.

Dreams never lasted, they only lasted for as long as you were asleep. You always had to wake up, at some point, and what remained of the dream was only an afterimage. _How much do you remember of it? Did you die in the dream? Did it hurt? Did you suffer?_

As the alarm began to blare in the distance, telling all personnel to evacuate – the self-destruction sequence had been initiated, remotely, he knew – he crumpled up some tissues and tossed them into the sink, pouring gasoline over them. He held the flame of his zippo to them, and once the makeshift fire was big enough, eating away at the tissues, he pulled out three cassette tapes, each labeled differently. It was all the correspondence he’d had with _The Man Who Sold The World_ over the years; his recorded voice, offering guidance and soothing a troubled conscience whenever the pain threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn’t allowed to leave anything to chance. One after the other, he let them drop into the sink as well, watched the plastic melt until only a black, unrecognizable, bubbling puddle was left, disappearing down the drain.

He would take this secret to a grave that wasn’t even his. Nobody would ever know… Nobody would hear it from him – that once, there had been two of them, both existing at the same time. He would leave no mark of his own. This legacy was Big Boss’s, the greatest soldier to ever walk this earth.

The hero and the tyrant. The savior and the war criminal. The father and the traitor.

He was all those things at once.

V picked up his rifle leaning against a cabinet, and some additional magazines. He turned around, leaving the bathroom and instead making his way to the last hangar, taking a shortcut and knowing that the snake would have to pass through there if he wanted to make it out alive. He walked in slow, measured steps, reverberating against the cold unfeeling walls as the world around him descended deeper into chaos, red warning lights flashing. He was in no hurry. He stepped over a lifeless body drenched in blood, and another one that was still moving.

“Boss, he’s…! I couldn’t…!”

Someone touched his leg, tried to hold onto it, but he kept walking.

“ _Save us!”_

He ignored the voice, thin and weak and desperate. He caught the chatter on the radio, the mention of the NATO strike, and ignored that, too.

It would all be over soon. Pain was in the mind… an illusion, just like peace. He felt nothing. He would play his part perfectly in this last performance, this last encore, waiting patiently and making no move until the curtain was lifted.

Until he came.

_You died here today, understand? You’re a new man…_

“Yeah,” he said, eyes open. Awake.

_Now give that new life to me._

“I’m Big Boss.”


End file.
